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by ringanybells
Summary: Mary's last letter from her father came the day she moved into her new house. Set during Stan By Me.


Mary sat in her backyard, looking up at the stars. She'd been so excited that morning, finally moving into her own house. She had spent her entire youth dreaming of a place she could call her own, a place she never had to worry about being evicted, or kicked out of. She had that now; she had a place of sanctuary and solitude. At least she had that, before her mother had shown up, so much for solitude, or silence.

She'd been prepared to simply accept that fact of life and mope for the next week, but then she'd found the letter. It had been put in her mailbox, sans return address, not that she needed one to know who it was from. Instead of opening it right then and there, as she desperately wanted to do, she folded it and stuck it in her back pocket.

It had remained there all day, through a witness induction, lunch with Marshall, and a very uncomfortable dinner with her mother. When Jinx had finally opened her second bottle of wine, Mary had allowed herself to slip out the back door, six pack in hand. She didn't need the beer, nor was it a good idea to drink like this on a weeknight. But over the years, through more than a dozen of these letters, she'd found them easier to deal with when her inhibitions were slightly lowered.

She was three bottles in when she finally opened the letter. The tears started as she slit the seal, they always did. Thoughts of her father, whom she missed more than anything else, were the only thing that could reduce bad ass marshal Mary Shannon to a teary eyed little girl. She took her time reading through the missive. It wasn't his longest, but that didn't really matter. She cherished every word.

After she'd finished, she'd remained outside, opening another beer. Every now and then, her eyes would return to the letter, scanning the message, memorizing the words. She could recite most of his letters by heart. The tears still flowed, the occasional sob escaping her.

That was how her partner found her. He watched from her back door for several minutes. When she hadn't answered her phone, he'd stopped by; when she hadn't answered her door, he'd used the key she'd already given him. He'd called her name as he walked through her new house, but had gotten no response. He'd started to worry when he'd opened the back door to find her sitting poolside. For a second, he'd been angry, she should know better than to simply ignore him. Then he'd seen her shoulders shake, a clear indication that she was crying.

He'd known Mary for several years. As a rule, she didn't do the softer emotions. In all their time together, he'd never seen her cry; he'd never even seen her breath hitch. So the sight of her actually sobbing had him at a loss. If it was anyone else, his first instinct would be to wrap his arms around her and offer what comfort he could, but this was Mary. Just as she didn't do soft emotions, she didn't do comfort.

As it turned out, she took the decision from his hands, "Stop skulking over there, and go home." She didn't want Marshall to see her like this.

He of course ignored her. Telling him to leave was the surest way to keep him right where he was. He made his way down the back steps and toward his partner. He sat on the lounge chair next to her. Marshall looked his partner up and down. There were several empty bottles at her feet and clutched in her hand was a letter. He reached forward and took it. For a second she held tight, a look of anger in her eyes as she glared up at him.

But Marshall was not intimidated by it. He reached out and placed his other hand on top of where hers still clutched the letter. Mary's eyes softened as she read the emotion in her partner's. Her hold relaxed. He unfolded it and read the letter through.

_Mary, darling, I am so proud of you. I know that today you've accomplished something that means a great deal to you. Your mother and I never had the opportunity to own a house. My lifestyle required us to be the free spirit types, ready to pick up and go should the need arise. I always assumed that my daughters would inherit the desire to fly from me. But I never in my wildest dreams imagined that you would figure out how to put down roots at the same time. I look at what you've made of your life, despite the hardships that you faced after I left, and it warms my heart. You have become more than I ever could have imagined. My only wish for you now is to find someone with whom to share your life with. I want you to have someone in your life who understands you, who will anchor you when you feel lost and who will lift you up when your heart is heavy. _

_When I first saw that you intended to become a marshal, I feared that the road would be more difficult than you could bear. My own record with the law, as well as your mother's colorful life, seemed to be stacked against you. But never once did you falter. Imagine my surprise to find that my precious baby girl, who is more like me than she will ever know, has the makings of a fine lawman. To see you excel at this job, which even I can see you love, is a gift I only wish I could cherish with you._

_Despite my distance, I know that your road has not been easy. I feared when you left your mother's at 16 that you would run as far as you could and not look back, desperate for a respite from the pressures of being responsible for her. But to my surprise, you did not abandon her, or your sister. You have cared for them better than I could have ever imagined doing myself. I know you saw this house as an opportunity to have a place of serenity. And I know that your mother's arrival has put that dream to rest. Yet, still you rise to the occasion. I commend you, and only wish that I could take more credit for the marvelous woman you've become. But there is no one who deserves that credit but you._

_I often fear that our paths will never again have the opportunity of crossing, and that thought weighs heavy on both my heart and soul. For there is nothing in this world that I want more than an afternoon with you, to hear you answer all the questions that I cannot put to pen. I have no way of knowing what's to come, only what is. And of what is, I know this. You, my sweet girl, are everything I ever could have wanted you to be. I love you, sweetheart, and think of you often. No matter where the wind blows me, I always find my heart looking toward you to find home. One day, it is my hope that my feet will finally be able to take me there. _

_All my love,_

_Dad_

For a moment, Marshall sat stunned. While Marshall had met both his partner's mother and sister, he'd never heard her mention her father before. Brandi had let slip once that he ran off when they were both young, but Mary had silenced her with a look. From the sound of Mary's letter, there was more to that story than anyone was telling, perhaps even more than Mary herself knew. Reading the letter, Marshall was not surprised at the emotion on his partner's face. It would take a cold heart indeed to remain passive through such heartfelt words. He did not need to meet Mary's father to know that he loved her very much, and Mary's reaction to this simple piece of paper was more than enough to confirm she felt the same. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Mary let out a soft chuckle, resigned to letting Marshall in just a little deeper than he had been yesterday. "Tell you what, Marshall? That my father is actually a wanted felon that took off when I was eight? That the reason it seems like I need to control everything is actually because I spent so much of my life with no control over anything? That despite the badge on my dresser and the gun on my night stand, I'm actually concealing evidence that could lead to the arrest of a man who's been on the Most Wanted List for most of my life? That the tough bitchy exterior I've been hiding behind for the last three years is just my desperate attempt to stop another man from ripping my heart out and leaving me waiting by a mailbox?"

Marshall moved over to sit beside his partner, her rules be damned. He placed one arm around her and pulled her close, relaxing when her arms slid around his back. "No, that you only had one beer left. I would have brought more."

The normality in his voice caused Mary to pull back, searching to meet her partner's eyes. She had been hiding her past from him since the beginning of their partnership; she had been hiding the letters from everyone since age eight. A part of her had feared that Marshall would act as cop first in this instance, and not friend. But it was all there in his eyes. No one would hear any of this from him. Knowing that he cared about her that much, she felt something within her melt. Her father's departure had taught her to be wary of getting hurt, but Marshall's arrival had given her a place in which to put down those roots her father had mentioned. "I was afraid."

He was surprised by her admission; fear was right up there with crying when it came to Mary. But he saw the change in her eyes; she was finally ready to let him in. He reached up with his other hand, tilting her chin to make eye contact. "There is nothing you ever have to fear, not from me."

She read the truth in his eyes. "I know." She nodded and leaned her head against his shoulder. He leaned back, getting comfortable. He knew what was coming. And so it did. The two of them spent the rest of the night there, on the pool chairs, letting the other see what they'd kept hidden. There was no secret left untold by the time the sun rose. And when they both sat up and looked at each other, there was something new in both their eyes, trust- absolute and total.

Almost two years later, Marshall stood in Mary's kitchen. His best friend was missing. And some slimy, pretentious FBI agent was trying to tell him about his partner. _James 'Wily' Shannon, spent twenty years on the FBI's Most Wanted List. Bet you didn't know about that._ Marshall bit back his response. Oh, yes, he'd known, for ages now. He resisted the urge to ram the agent's head into the nearest wall. He didn't have time for that. His partner was in trouble. And just as he had trusted her to keep him alive in the desert, he knew she was trusting him to find her, because that's what partners were all about. He slapped his hand on top of the offending files, knocking them to the ground as he brushed past the jackass in front of him. He didn't have time for jurisdictional crap or interdepartmental arguments. He had to bring Mary home.


End file.
